To Die For
by Honeycreeper
Summary: [During TDK] Those razors felt like feathers against his skin. How The Joker got his chelsea grin. Oneshot. Obviously not canon at this point.


disclaimer : I own nothing.

foreword : TDK mania is starting to overtake me. Oh, who am I kidding, TDK mania got me when they released that first Joker pic. I know everyone hates Heath!Joker but I don't mind it. So I wrote this in anticipation. Oh, and yes, it will go into the TDK section once it's made.

**To Die For**

His hand was shaky but he didn't seem to notice. His lips were dry and cracked, and pained him whenever his finger brushed against them or he pulled at his cheeks.

For an hour he had been staring in the mirror, the shapes of his face no longer making sense, no longer looking human. They were almost simian after he studied them long enough, running his finger along the line of his cheekbone.

He put both his index fingers on his lower eyelids, pulling at them, seeing the pink flesh exposed underneath the skin.

_Nothing but a monkey_, he thought to himself, moving back to stretch his cheeks out and gawk at how it distended his lips.

The man would admit he was vain, and for this he apologized to no one. He was straight forward to everyone that the most important person to him was himself, and they could take it or leave it. Well, take it or get a bullet to the face, actually.

Sticking his tongue out at the mirror he grinned, his cheeks pulling up as far as they could go.

"You are one handsome son of a bitch." he found himself saying, and chuckled as he grabbed a handful of cheek.

His free hand grabbed a nearby razor, small and silver but new and sharp. He didn't even think as it came to slice accross his cheek. From the corner of his lip, over and up it went, leaving a trail of blood in it's path.

Slowly he wiped the excess blood away and looked at the cut. It was nice, but it wasn't nearly deep enough. Furrowing his brow he took the razor back to his cheek, carving deeper, in an almost sawing motion back and forth.

There was pain but he barely felt it, it was in the background of his mind, it always was. The cut was deep enough that it came to the membrane of his inner cheek, but not enough to cut all the way through. Skin deep.

He exhaled and stood taller, looking at his now uneven face. He smiled. His cleft cheek bled a little when he did. _God, I'm gorgeous._

Without hesitation he picked up a new razor and began on the other cheek, working quicker, and perhaps doing a shoddy job. He was giddy, excited, and his mind was racing. Rip. Tear. Slash. Perfection.

At this point he was laughing hysterically, the razor still slicing away at his muscles. Those razors felt like feathers against his skin, the pain gone as he worked, blood flowing onto his dirty finger tips.

When he was done he was in a stupor, still giggling as he eyed his mouth. Pulling his shirt from the pile of clothes he'd earlier discarded on the floor, he tried to compose himself once more. After all, people were waiting for him.

Quickly he threw on his vest and suit jacket, and smoothed back his greasy hair.

Once more he looked himself over in the mirror.

"You're fucking to die for." he said, smiling, his cheeks raw and mind still spinning.

When he walked out he was greeted by wide eyes and dropped jaws.

"What the fuck happened to you?" someone asked.

"Make over, what do you think!" he snarled, pulling his gloves on and moving to stand at the head of the room, "Are you guys ready, or what?"

There wasn't an answer, merely surprised faces and all eyes on him.

"What are you staring at, you morons!" he screamed, "Get to work!"

Shaking his head he made his way out of the building, his entourage following at his heels.

It didn't matter what they thought now, if his face startled them or if they didn't like it. They just didn't understand. They just didn't get it.

The Joker couldn't help but smile to himself as he strode along the street.

After all, you're nothing if you're just another.

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Reviews always appreciated.


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